Kenyon, widely-renowned for its site-specific scents, has finally broken into the candle industry. The smells you’ve grown to know, recognize, and even love are finally available for purchase. Just don’t light them or even let your CA know you have them, or you’ll get one of them big fat write ups. For the rebellious ones within these hallowed halls, we bring you a taste (or should I say, a sniff) of what’s to come.
Peirce: Tomato sauce, burnt things
Sometimes I get a strong scent-craving for that sweet smell of a burnt bagel. You know the one. That smell you experience when you place your precariously cut blueberry bagel in the rotating toaster whilst hungover on a Sunday afternoon–and then what happens? You witness it catch completely on fire in one swift motion. You sigh, re-cut, re-place, and pray to the gods of bagels for golden-brown nirvana. Well now, you can remind yourself of that scent/feeling/place at the simple flick of the wrist. And also the candle smells like tomato sauce, because duh.
The Cove: Chinese food, fried things, and mistakes
It’s the end of fall, you’re all cozy on a couch with a blanket, a warm drink, and a book. You think to yourself, I could really be reminded of grime and fried cheese right now. You light this bad boy up and boom, it’s Friday night/Saturday morning at 1:30 am all over again.
Yeah there isn’t much to say beyond this.
Caples: Cigarettes and dust
So you’re living South, and you’re in desperate need of that nostalgic sense of relentless congestion and doom–look no further than the Caples candle. It’s got all you need to feel like you’re deeply surrounded by ghosts, facing your inevitable demise with every ominous elevator ride.
New Apts: Mold and that good good (you know the one)
Ayo playa you got that good good? Yeah man, check out this sweet wax in a glass jar I bought on middle path. Oh hell yeah, smell that sweet sweet green man. No it has no properties of actual “stinky-stank”–but it takes you back in a very Proustian way to weekends in February waiting for it to be socially acceptable for you to go to sleep.
Now you don’t even have to walk down that hill to smell the comforting mixture of shockingly sterile yet intimidating echo of the sweet, sweet Athletic Center. Just light this candle up in your Mather single, do a couple sit ups, and bam–it’s like you’re there.